by Fiona Barnes
"Do you know what you want for you? From him?"
Rocketed back to reality, Cate's heart crashed. "I want my own life."
"Without Tom?"
A million feelings rushed through Cate's heart at once. Not one of them was freedom. She detected a smudge of fear. When did this happen?
"Not without him, no. But not with him. What's wrong with me?"
Calli stifled a snicker successfully. "Nothing. Not a thing."
"I keep going back and forth between the things he did and said that were wonderful, and the−" here, Cate hesitated, "not wonderful."
Calli's hatred of the disease had never been so full but she kept her cool until Cate needed more. "Give me an example of each."
Cate chose to ignore the negative. Instead she held it in her stomach where it would fester. "He was sitting here with me one night−"
Calista knew that Cate was most likely curled up on the comfortable couch in the great room, before a roaring fire, with Merry. The tall windows would be dark, the lights from the city beyond the shore dotting the horizon. The kitchen−the whole house, actually−would be tidy, and she'd be wearing something cute. Probably yoga pants or faded jeans that hugged her curves with an oversized, faded sweatshirt loose around her shoulders. Cate's hair would be a mess of curls, piled on her head in a knot. She'd have a pencil stuck behind her ear and a stack of paper with scribbles on it somewhere nearby. And a snack−something delicious.
Although if she was hurting, food and ideas would be the last things on her mind. Calista corrected the image.
"The bad is the disease. The bad can be fixed," Cate interrupted herself.
"Cate, don't do that."
"I know."
"Tell me the positive then. Finish your thought about where you were sitting."
"He was sitting here with me. We were just quiet for a minute, staring at the fire."
"And?"
"He'd leaned over and curled up with me−" Calista had seen great love from Tom over the years, written all over his face, and only for her Cate. She'd seen it in his actions; the gentle care he took of Cate, the protective stance he took when it came to her and in the way he looked at her, almost wistfully. Like he knew what he had, what he didn't think he deserved, and who he didn't expect to hold onto much longer, Cal thought, as an idea started to click. She'd seen him hold onto Cate when he was happiest (which wasn't often, she remembered now) turn to her when he was frightened (was that possible?) and laugh with her companionably the rest of the time. Calli had never been present for a fight. Now she imagined them throwing things at one another, ducking and laughing. Moving closer to each other even then until they were staring one another in the eye, serious, the anger forgotten.
Calli's vision was interrupted with Cate's words, "He got all comfortable. It was so familiar but it wasn't. You know?"
Cal nodded.
Over the phone, Cate knew she would. Cate continued then, "He sighed, this big, long sigh, and said, 'I knew I should of brought a uniform.'" She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't cry at the sheer romance of the moment, what she couldn't express in words.
Calista understood. "You love him."
"I do." Was that surprise or resignation in her voice?
"What are you going to do about that?"
"I guess I've got some thinking to do. I just want my life−" Cate lamented one last time.
"You're not giving anything up, Catie−"
"Freedom, independence−"
"If you're doing that, it's not right."
"What are my other choices?"
"Take some time. Heal a little bit. You've been hurt an awful lot. The goal is to add to your life, not take away. If you've got questions, take all the time you need. If this is forever−"
Cate was nodding, a tear sliding down her cheek. It was forever with Tom. That's all it ever was.
"You've got all the time in the world," Calli told her gently.
"What if−"
"He's not going anywhere."
"But−"
"Catie," Calli said softly, patiently. "It's always been you. Since the moment you two met." She waited a beat, listening for any sound from Cate. When she heard nothing, Calista added, "Get some sleep. You'll feel better tomorrow. I'll call you then."
"What did I ever do to deserve you?" Cate wondered aloud, picturing the huge smile that would light her beautiful friend's face. Her heart swelled with gratitude at the honesty in Cal's words.
"You loved me," Calista said simply.
Chapter Fifty Four
Cate awoke rested minutes before her alarm. She felt a little bit high. She'd felt a release after speaking to Calista and now she could honor the way she felt toward Tom. In truth, it had always been him.
Oh, sometimes she'd been afraid of the wealth of feelings she had for him and she'd tried to run. He'd always waited patiently, not pushing anything, simply being agreeable. Strong. When she'd sheepishly returned, he'd resumed loving her as if nothing had happened. In reality, nothing had. Tom had a great understanding of her hurts and had never stopped loving Cate from the minute he'd met her.
She saw now how much her fear must have hurt him. How had she never seen the depth of the man before?
Cate had heard from so many of her trusted friends over the past few days since she'd spoken to Calli, including both children. She'd sat and listened to her own heart, not making decisions as much as feeling them. The only one she hadn't talked to was Tom.
And now, she had to work. This week's schedule was grueling and exciting. There were the live Halloween shows, the prep for the book idea John had signed on for as well as the extra videos Melissa had agreed to. Cate's usual schedule had been pushed back to make room for the all important tapings.
She had to be in the studio earlier for hair and makeup. She'd stay later to finish any commercial tapings for the shows as well as correct any mishaps that could be fixed. (Melissa would spin the rest.) Then she'd head home, after a quick meeting slash dinner with her staff−a "meeting with food"−only to do it again the next day.
The exhilaration of the week kept Cate riding high. The audience caught her fervor and they were off. Cate's first show was the children's episode. She thoroughly enjoyed dressing up as an evil witch, warts and all. She admired the sets her staff had tirelessly worked on, hating to see them go.
In the back of her mind then, she planned out the next big holiday, re-using the brightly lit front doors they'd built and the staircase. Thanksgiving and Christmas were as much about home and family as they were about food. Maybe Alex would "surprise" Cate on set, running down the beautiful staircase much like she had when she was younger. Cate could open the welcoming front door to Nic, another "surprise" the happy, cheerful audience would go wild for.
Rousing herself back to the present, Cate surveyed the stage. It was exactly what she'd hoped for: creepy yet elegant. Cobwebs hung low, like lace, dripping from high ceilings. It almost looked like a forest, similar to the way live oak swept its branches so low and dreamy. The large, wide staircase curved upward to nowhere, family portraits hanging up one wall. Whose family, Cate didn't know−when she looked closer, she saw the all-American family had become holographic skeletons and ladies with missing eyes. Smoke machines sat off-stage, ready to pump the wispy gray fog over the floor of the set at a moment's notice. And in the center sat Cate's cauldron: a black monstrosity with charming little feet, already oozing atmosphere. Dry ice worked over the Halloween punch her prep kitchen staff had poured in.
There was only time to appreciate the celebration of the moment before the audience began to file in, talking and laughing excitedly. Then the warm-up guy would do his thing and Cate would be introduced. After that, tape would roll. Cate's week would be over quickly, with very little time for breaks−or breathing.
Cate took one last look around at the set she'd dreamed up. Here, she was home. She loved every blessed minute of it.
Chapter Fifty Five
Halloween we
ek was an instant success−a smash−as Melissa had known it would be. She was delighted to see Cate so delirious and understood when Cate begged off her social engagements to go home and sleep. Cate was the hardest-working person Melissa had ever met. She gave as much as she could, gladly, and didn't allow room for anything that didn't inspire her. Fans sometimes questioned her busy schedule, as if she enjoyed eating chocolate-covered strawberry-filled bon bons (the ones she was known to create) most lazy afternoons. They didn't see the hours Cate put in on her books, the travel time she used so carefully, all the prep work she did herself: building recipes, planning shows, prepping book ideas and meeting people who could help her further her dreams.
Cate's ultimate dream was a restaurant. When Melissa had met Cate, Melissa had known the woman could take her far. Originally, Cate's plan had been to sell a cookbook. By the middle of that plan, Cate had spawned several more. She'd called Melissa desperate with the idea of a television show, her excitement palpable. Cate was a brand and her personality was wanted everywhere. Book signings that started in Barnes and Noble now sold tickets and had to be held with security present. Shows that started with the simplest crew now employed hundreds of people and boasted video sales in the hundreds of thousands. And that was before talk of endorsements even started. Cate was being courted by StarDust coffee. Dippin' Doodads was also interested in her; she only had to pick. She liked the offer on StarDust's table, but she'd grown up with Dippin'.
Cate was hot. And looking at her, Melissa saw Cate was exhausted.
"Go home," Melissa smothered a laugh at the hopeless look on Cate's face. "You want a driver? I've got a driver."
"I'll take the train," Cate mumbled, wrapping a fluffy scarf around her neck, fumbling.
"You're taking a driver," Melissa repeated, firm. Her friend always pushed too far. Cate had done an honest week's work, and coupled with the personal stress she was under, she deserved a rest. "Take ten days."
"Oh, I can't−"
"You can. You will."
"Calista is coming in. She'll want to see the show."
"So work a few days next week," Melissa thought quickly. "Then go away yourself. Take a long weekend."
Cate gratefully accepted the tall to-go cup full of hot water (with a hefty chunk of fresh lemon resting in it) that a staff member handed her. She wrestled the top off and held the steam to her face.
Melissa waited, "Next weekend? Go away somewhere."
Cate seemed to be lost in her cup.
"Cate? Take the time. You're no good to me like this. Sleep. Rest. Be good to yourself." Decided, Melissa patted Cate's shoulder in a feminine, circular motion and steered her gently toward the studio door. It wasn't often Melissa could afford to be so generous but she was proud of Cate's hard work and the production of the week. The crowd had been wild. Everyone enjoyed The Show, Cate, and the cookbooks, t-shirts and other gear they'd passed around. Holding the door, Melissa nudged Cate through it, leading her to the quiet back entrance and nodding at security.
Piling her into the long black limousine, Melissa tucked Cate's trailing scarf into the vehicle.
"You'll go home. You'll rest, you'll eat," Melissa said. "Next week, we'll run a light schedule, you'll bring Calli in. Then a long weekend. You'll hang out with Tom, maybe you two will go away−"
Cate looked up, blinking at her friend sleepily.
"Eat a banana and lots of granola−"
Cate's foggy brain had captured Melissa's idea. She'd ask Tom to go away with her. They'd drive up north, find a cozy cabin somewhere and sleep the weekend away. They'd cook, they'd eat, they'd shop. Somewhere along the coast of Lake Champlain in upstate New York or deeper into Vermont. They'd buy cheese, she smiled, hazy. They'd build fires and walk in the woods amid crunchy leaves or the first light snow.
Cate rested her head on the leather headrest. Melissa blew her a kiss and closed the door gently. As the sleek limousine slid smoothly away from the curb, Cate's eyes fluttered shut and her undaunted heart dreamed.
Chapter Fifty Six
Cate rested all weekend. She slept deliciously, gloriously late. She ate fat strawberries and luscious pineapple. She drank cold milk and water infused with clean lemon and fresh lime.
By Sunday, she was ready for a spa day but held off in favor of later luxury with Calista. Instead, Cate called her personal style team, who insisted a trim, a manicure and a massage in front of the fire would cure anything. They weren't wrong.
Cate was dreaming up a weekend away with Tom but she was afraid to ask him. She was pushing, being a girl, and he still had a long recovery in front of him. There was a time where he would've really enjoyed her being a girl, she remembered. She wasn't sure what point she was lacking the most courage about: Tom's mini-disappearance when she'd stated her feelings or her understanding and agreement that his healing must come before theirs. She refused to consider whether or not theirs was even a thing.
Either way, she'd offer it up to God, Cal, and circumstance.
Cate expected Calista to roll in this morning. Millie had opened up a guest room and bath for Calli, adding sparkling new soaps and luscious shampoo and conditioner. Thick towels rested on the tall bed, paperbacks and CD's lined a slender bookshelf on one wall. There was stationary along with a few fancy pens in a nightstand drawer. Extra sweaters sat, nubby and full, in the bureau, content among yummy-smelling lemon and lilac sachets. On the dresser sat a shiny Keurig coffeemaker, an assortment of k-cups (coffee, cocoa and tea), linen napkins, silver spoons and pretty, hearty white mugs. Creamer waited in a small apartment-size fridge built into the bathroom vanity and various sugar packets (including Cate's favorite: raw) sat neatly in a matching dainty bowl near the Keurig.
French doors opened onto the deck, facing the far end of Tom's property with its pretty oak trees, the old barn, and views of the meadows. This time of year, the tall grass danced in a light breeze. A long time ago, Tom had cut paths through it. Now his barn cats and their kittens tripped and played there, among other smaller animals. Sometimes a rabbit or even a fox could be seen traveling the trails he'd shaped. The space was often thick with birds, attracted to the houses and feeders Tom had built by hand. The Adirondack chairs Cate had chosen for the wooden deck provided a comfortable, restful place to watch the miles-long view.
The bed was made with the luxurious linens Millie had fussed over: a thick comforter, fresh, clean sheets and plush pillows. On one nightstand sat a small clear bowl of wrapped chocolates, ready to reflect the glow of warm lamplight. Calista would feel at home, Cate mused, content.
Millie had given the tidy home a glow that the tired Cate had appreciated, waking up the first morning after Halloween week. The counters and tile floors gleamed, the stainless appliances didn't show a smudge. Carpets were freshly vacuumed, not a stray nap or an errant crumb to be found. The porcelain in the baths sparkled, as did the hardwood. Windows reflected only light; elegant curtains were neatly pressed and fell tastefully. Tall mirrors sparkled in the sunshine, fabrics were crisp and throw pillows aligned. Sunshine shone through skylights cut into the high ceilings that highlighted the bright, airy rooms.
The house smelled fresh. It smelled clean. It smelled delicious, because Millie had left Cate flowers everywhere. Huge bouquets of brilliant red roses in the kitchen. Lush, tall eggshell calla lilies graced Cate's office and her bedroom suite. There were calm purple delphinium dancing on the dining room table and bright gerbera waited patiently in the guest suite. Each bathroom, including the half bath off the kitchen, boasted elegant magnolias. In the entry, poised to greet, were cheerful sunflowers in a tall clear-cut vase.
First on Cate's to-do list was giving Millie a hefty raise.
The freezer was stocked, filled with two half gallons of Rocky Road ice cream, chunks of solid chocolate, bags of natural frozen berries. Fresh containers of good cocoa, sugars and the flours Cate used neatly lined the organized pantry shelves, along with oats, fresh honey and a full bag of popping corn. (The lemon juic
e Cate liked sat in the fridge, along with more milk, fresh grapes and salad makings like peppers, carrots and cucumbers. Fat slabs of bacon, wrapped in white butcher paper sat nearby.) There were purple and white onions, tiny cloves of garlic, baking and red potatoes as well as the last of the chunky Heirloom tomatoes from Cate's garden. Crisp, red Cortland apples waited in a wooden bowl on the island.
Cate decided to add a hefty bonus to that raise and include Millie's girls somehow. Maybe a trip.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Calista's arrival. Setting her tall carpet bags down in the foyer, Calli hugged Cate tightly. Her bright face was lit by warmth.
"What'll we do first?" Calista asked. "Catch up?"
"We need a spa day," Cate told her friend. "I've been waiting for you."
Cal went to unpack while Cate poured cold drinks and then tripped happily upstairs to the guest suite. She set the tall glasses on stone coasters then dropped face-down onto the fluffy bed.
"You packed a swimsuit?" Cate asked, eyeing colorful piles the organized Cal had set out.
"You still have a jacuzzi?" Cal returned, one eyebrow lifted.
"I do."
"There you go," Cal laughed. Cate immediately relaxed at the sound. "Tell me about the spa, then. You found one you like?"
"I made a reservation for tomorrow."
"Oh, you made a reservation," Calista's eyes twinkled and her mouth fought the urge to turn up at the corners. "You're so famous."
"No, they're so booked," Cate observed dryly.
"Tomorrow then?"
"Up at the crack of dawn."
Cal's movements stopped. "No−"
"No?"
"No. Absolutely not. I did not come here to−"
"Sleep late, dish and eat?"
Calista and Cate looked at one another. Both held off on laughter until their eyes met, then the room filled with the musical sound.
"Oh, I'm so glad you're here," Cate finished.
